


An Egg for Their Feet

by way1203



Series: Love’s Better Encumbered [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Because Oswald deserves a family, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Established Relationship, F/F, Family Fluff, Fluff, Godfather Victor Zsasz, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Mild Smut, Nygmobblepositivity, Nygmobblepot, Parent Edward Nygma, Parent Oswald Cobblepot, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-04-26 05:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/way1203/pseuds/way1203
Summary: Once the baby came along, things changed for Edward and Oswald.A look into the fluffier moments of Penguin and The Riddler’s adventures in marriage & fatherhood.





	1. The F-Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are anecdotes I mentioned throughout Sole Custody and I figured some of them needed to be written out. I’ll be doing that here. Some chapters will be long, others short. 
> 
> I highly recommend reading Sole Custody so that some things make more sense. 
> 
> I’m starting with the anecdote from chapter 10. That said, I hope you enjoy!

Oswald sat in the armchair with his chin on his fist and listened as Edward called after their daughter. In the middle of dressing her for a party, the three-year-old took off running before they had a chance to put her in a pair of tights. He ran a hand over his face. At this rate, they would definitely be late.

“Annabelle!” He could hear the exasperation in his husband’s voice. “Sweetie, daddy and I need to finish dressing you.”

She laughed and the sound of her feet barreling through the hallways of the Van Dahl manor followed soon after.

“Annabelle, get back he—”

A loud thump made Oswald sit up straight. His mind began to assume the worst. Edward hurt himself, Annabelle hurt herself, something was wrong. He stood and that’s when he heard it, the last word he wanted to hear screamed out while a toddler was present.

“ **FUCK**!”

Penguin lifted his eyebrows. _Are you kidding me?_

Their daughter’s laughter rang out. “Daddy said a swear!”

He took a calming breath and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Fuck, indeed. The smaller man left the room and found his husband bracing himself against a doorframe, a hand clutching his foot as he tried to breathe through the pain.

“Ah... _ow_!” Ed clenched his teeth. “Cheese and _crust_. Yowza!”

“Ed—” Before Oswald could say any more, his husband raised a hand.

“I know what I said. We’ll discuss it later. Right now, I’m going to get some ice. Can you—ah!—get AB?”

“Absolutely.”

* * *

While Victor Zsasz was with Annabelle at the park, her parents took a moment to recover. They sat side-by-side on the couch in silence, each mentally replaying the day's events. Oswald stared at a spot on the carpet as Ed nibbled at his cuticle. Worry plagued the Riddler's mind. The throbbing in his foot was now a dull ache that reminded him of his horrible mistake. 

"I can’t believe I said the F-word in front of our daughter."

"I honestly can’t either."

Ed groaned. "I _really_ messed up."

"Of all the words, why the F-word?" Oswald sighed. "Both of us swear but, of all the words, you just had to slip and say _fuck_ around our three-year-old. That's...well, it's not good, to state the obvious."

Zsasz entered the room with Annabelle at his side causing both men to look up in alarm. They weren't supposed to be back for another fifteen minutes. The assassin tilted his head. "Gertie Bell just said the F-word on the teeter-totter. Would either of you care to let me in on what’s going on with that?"

Ed slid his fingertips beneath his glasses and covered his eyes. "Oh, my God. I messed up."

"What is he talking about?"

Oswald scoffed. "Ed screamed it when he stubbed his toe."

Victor lifted one side of his brow, his eyes wide. "Seriously?"

"Yes. And now, apparently, Belle has a new favorite word.”

"It was an accident for the hundredth time!" Ed snapped. "I fractured my toe, and I’m not the only one that’s shouted expletives after an injury, thank you very much."

"It’s fine."

"What's not fine is that our daughter knows that word now. What if she, I don't know, says it at school one day?"

"You mean one day _two years_ from now? You're really being dramatic."

The conversation continued to ping-pong and Victor followed with his eyes and an amused smile.

* * *

"It’s good to see you again, Annabelle." Jim crouched down and smiled at the toddler. "Do you remember me?"

Annabelle nodded. "Jim!"

"Yep." He gestured up at the man standing beside him. "What about Detective Bullock?"

"Bully!" She wrapped her arms around his leg.

Edward gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that. She really seemed to like you during the Christmas Party. I think it's because you remind her of Santa."

"It’s okay, Nygma. The kid’s not bad." Harvey patted Annabelle’s back and smiled at her. "Thank you for the hug, sweetheart."

"What do we say, AB?"

"Um…" The toddler furrowed her brow in thought. Remembering, she looked up at the adults and proudly replied, "Fuck!"

Harvey guffawed. Jim’s initial shock dissolved quickly into laughter. Nearby officers laughed as well, while others turned to see the cause of the commotion. Edward’s face drained. It’d been a few months since she first learned the word, and he honestly thought she’d forgotten about it. He was wrong, so very wrong. He picked up his daughter and held her on his hip. 

"Oh, no. Oh, dear. I’m so sorry!" Ed apologized. "I’m so embarrassed."

Bullock waved a hand. "Don’t be! That’s hilarious! Can I keep her?"

"I’m so sorry, Gordon. She heard me say it when I fractured my toe the other day. I’m so sorry."

"Nygma, relax.” Jim clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Kids will be kids. You gotta learn to laugh."

* * *

An hour later, Harvey burst out laughing again. Stopping himself from the hysterics proved almost impossible and he started wheezing.

Jim, slightly annoyed, looked up. "It wasn't that funny, Harvey!"

"D’you see Nygma’s face?" Bullock wiped his eyes. "Oh man. He was practically shittin’ bricks!"

The captain rolled his eyes and went back to his paperwork. He thought it was over until Harvey came back from lunch with a small shake from the malt shop down the street.

"Watching your figure?" asked Jim.

Harvey shook his head. "Nope, it's for the kid. I might not like Nygma, but that little girl earns a piece of my heart each time she steps in here. That moment today was damn funny."

"Don't tell me you bought the kid a shake for swearing?"

"Look, the kid learned how to say the ultimate potty word. Where I come from, that's cause for celebration." 


	2. The Christening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the anecdote in Chapter 8 of Sole Custody
> 
> Each chapter will be from different points in time starting with before AB is born and leading up to her 4th birthday.

Victor Zsasz sped to the address with his heart racing. The text from his boss was more than urgent and the fact that it was about Annabelle scared the hell out of him. Parking in front of the church was a blur. He recalled seeing Edward’s car but only registered it as a sign that he was at the right place. He slipped in through the entrance. The voice of a priest pricked his ears and he drew his guns. He kicked open the doors to the sanctuary because holy ground be damned if that little girl was in trouble.

“Victor, you made it!”

The assassin frowned. Edward and Oswald stood near the alter by a large basin of water. Ivy sat on the first right pew grinning from ear to ear. Barbara and Tabitha were on the opposite side with their twin toddlers in their arms. Tabitha rocked a sleeping Braeden, while Barbara cooed for Bailey to stop squirming. As he stepped closer, he noticed Annabelle tucked safely in Oswald’s arms. It was a christening. That was all. He holstered his weapons and took a seat in the second row of pews.

“I would like to call forward the godparents.” The priest held out his hands. “Please stand across from the parents.”

Ivy jumped up and all but ran to the basin. Victor waited for one of the Kean-Galavans to move. He had his suspicions that Tabitha was chosen as her second godmother. Personally, he felt she was a better choice.

Edward cleared his throat.

Victor shifted his eyes to the alter where they all stared at him expectantly.

“Victor,” whispered Oswald. He tilted his head toward Ivy. “Get up here.”

He placed a hand on his chest and could almost feel the mixture of confusion and pride swelling inside it. Penguin nodded. Victor smiled. Hot damn, he’d been chosen. He stood beside Ivy, who squeezed his arm in bubbly excitement.

“We’re the godparents!” She whispered.

The priest picked up Annabelle and passed the baby to Ivy. He asked her series of questions to which the plant villain replied ‘yes!’ and ‘absolutely!’. Victor zoned slightly because he still couldn’t believe what was happening, and his adrenaline was still racing. He focused again in time to claim his title.

Ivy turned to Victor. “It’s your turn.”

She carefully placed Annabelle in his arms. Victor held the infant close to his chest, just as he’d done several times over the last month. Annabelle reached up at him, and he gave her his finger to hold onto.

“Victor Zsasz,” the priest began. “Do you promise to protect Annabelle Gertrude Nygma-Cobblepot?”

“I promise,” said Victor.

“Do you promise to be a presence in Annabelle’s life, loving and caring for her without condition, and providing spiritual guidance should she need it?”

“Yes.”

He knew he should’ve been looking at the priest as he continued asking questions, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the bundle in his arms. She’d stolen his heart the second he met her in that bassinet. He knew he’d never have children, and it would be an honor to have Annabelle as his goddaughter. The priest asked a question regarding parenting the child should something happen to Edward or Oswald.

“I will.”

“And one final question, Mr. Zsasz,” said the priest. “Do you accept the role of godfather, and all of the responsibilities it entails?”

Victor looked up and smiled. “I do.”


	3. Midnight Feedings

Oswald gently laid a two-month-old Annabelle down on his lap with her back against his thighs. Unhappy by the change in position, she waved her arms and scrunched her face. She'd start screaming if he didn't act quickly. Oswald shushed her as he placed the bottle in her mouth and audibly sighed in relief when Annabelle latched on without a fuss. The new parent used his free hand to cradle her head and made an effort not to rock the glider while she ate. He hoped this would be enough to get her to finally settle down. He watched as Annabelle looked around the room, curious about the world around her. 

“There you go, my dear,” Oswald quietly cooed. “I’m sorry it took so long but it would’ve been too hot for you to drink.”

He stifled a yawn. Tired didn’t even begin to describe how he felt as he waited patiently for her to finish her formula. Tangled up in their bedsheets was Ed. Oswald noticed that the deep circles beneath his eyes matched his own. Both parents were exhausted. Truthfully, they had been since they brought Annabelle home from the hospital. Tonight, Ed went to see about Annabelle in her bassinet after she started crying at midnight. When he couldn't get her to stop, Oswald took over so that Ed could sleep before work in the morning. The only thing keeping him from crying about his fatigue was the solace that he would get a short nap in once Victor came over around nine. Annabelle bent her knees and moved her head to get away from the bottle. Oswald placed it on the nightstand.

“All done?” He lifted her to his shoulder to burp her. Annabelle fussed quietly at first, but her whines grew louder until they bordered on cries. Oswald noticed his husband stirring and shushed her. “Don’t wake up papa. I know your tummy’s upset but we have to be very quiet. He’s very tired. He was called in for a crime scene until almost ten tonight and he has an early morning. We’ve gotta be quiet, my dear.”

Her father's concerns meant nothing to Annabelle. By this point, her whines had morphed into loud wails. He gently patted her back hoping she'd lower her volume but it was too late. Edward rolled onto his back and slowly sat up.

 _"Shh_ , Belle baby," said Oswald. "Oh, I’m sorry, Ed, honey. I tried not to wake you."

His husband brought his fingertips to his eyes and reached for his glasses. “It’s okay. At least I managed to doze off for a bit.”

Annabelle burped.

Oswald sighed. “Oh, thank God.”

“Don't thank him yet,” said Ed. “Did she spit up?”

The smaller man moved the infant to the crook of his arm and touched his shoulder. At this point, most of his T-shirts were covered in or stained with spit up. Bringing back a clean and dry hand filled him with more relief. “Nope.”

“Good. Do you want me to rock her to sleep?”

“It’s okay, she’s already dozing off.” Oswald looked down at Annabelle who yawned with her eyes shut. “It is truly amazing how quickly she falls asleep sometimes and not others.”

Ed got out of bed and walked over to his husband and daughter. “I remember being told by my mother once or twice that I could sleep anywhere as a baby.”

“Let’s hope she has more of that trait.”

“Let's hope. Oz, if you’ve got her, I'm going back to sleep.”

“I do. Get some rest, my dear. I’ll join you soon.”

“If you’re sure.”

Oswald accepted a kiss and watched him start to head back to bed. He rocked in the glider, hoping Annabelle would wind down. When he noticed her starting to squirm, he began to sing. "The fire has gone out, wet snow…above." He yawned. “But nothing will warm me more than my…”

“My mother’s love.” Ed moved closer and sat on the glider’s ottoman beside his husband’s feet.

They sang the remainder of the song together, alternating parts and harmonizing when they reached the final line. Once Annabelle was sound asleep, Oswald placed carefully her in her bassinet. He watched her for a moment, his husband at his side, both of them hoping she’d continue sleeping for a few more hours. 

“Hey, Oswald?”

“Edward?”

“Do you think your mother watches over Annabelle?”

Oswald gave a watery smile and looked at Ed. “I do. Every single day.”

“She’d be proud of you for everything and proud about us having her. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you. I deeply wish that she and father were here to see her. Fish too...she was, in a way, very much a mother to me.”

“I sort of gleaned that from our short meeting all those years ago. There were serious mama bear vibes when she saved you from me.” Ed brushed his fingertips over Annabelle’s mess of hair. His heart never ceased to swell at the sight of his daughter. He shifted his gaze to Oswald. “They’d all be proud, I think. You know, of how everything turned out.”

Penguin met eyes with The Riddler. He loved him so much and he loved Annabelle even more. He was thankful to have them both—to have the family he desperately wished for. “I love you, Ed.”

“I love you, too, Oz.”

There was a heated meeting of their lips, and hands against skin, but the smaller man stopped the kiss prematurely. “Wait, Ed...I…”

“Yes?”

Oswald gave a defeated sigh. “Know that if I wasn’t so tired and scared of waking her up, I’d show you how much love you.”

“Oz.” Ed stroked his husband’s cheeks with his thumbs, then placed a gentle kiss on his bottom lip. “I’ll gladly take that rain check.”


	4. Alone Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of smut because these dads finally got a moment to themselves.

Ed laughed. “I’m not sure about you, but I’m so enjoying this.”

"Please," begged his husband. "Don’t stop."

"Well, since you asked _nicely…_ "

Oswald opened his eyes, but the blindfold obscured his vision. His head lolled back. Someone’s thumb caressed the tip of his cock. He knew those hands anywhere—his husband’s touch had the power to fuel his lust and calm his senses. Something hot and soft covered his parted lips. He recognized Ed’s mouth and gave into the kiss. Then it stopped, leaving him aching for more—for just one second longer. A jolt of pleasure surged through him. Edward’s latest location increased Oswald’s urge to moan. But he couldn’t unless he wanted to be punished. That was his rule tonight.

 _Moan, and you buy yourself another ten minutes of teasing_.

Ed’s gravelly voice, the one he used to assert his dominance to enemies and his partner on occasions like these, made his body twitch. Oswald gasped and gripped the armrests. It’s not like he could do anything else with his hands when Edward bound them to the chair. The heat between their bodies, the sweat on his brow, if only he could remove his shirt and vest. His husband wanted him fully clothed for this, save for his pants and boxers that were pooled at his ankles. If anyone knocked on the door of Oswald’s office at Iceberg Lounge, Ed would remove the blindfold, but Oswald would need to act as though there weren’t someone under his desk sucking him off because his husband made it quite clear that he wouldn’t stop unless he broke the rules. Ed’s hands switched places with his mouth and, damn, were those fingers skilled. Oswald bucked his hips. He gave into a silent moan. He  _was_ enjoying this. With Annabelle at the Kean-Galavan's and Victor watching the club's event, they were able to slip away and truly have a moment of long-overdue…

“ _Ed._ ” It was a half-moan that Oswald instantly regretted the second it left his throat. He quickly apologized. “I’m sorry.”  

His husband tsked. “Oh, _Ozzy_. I thought the rules were very clear. No moaning. I guess you just bought yourself ten more minutes. I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Ed...Riddler, _please_ …. I’m…” He couldn’t even explain how he felt. His mind was too clouded from enduring thirty minutes of forced edging.

“Aww, look at you. You’re so much fun to tease. We haven’t done this in a while. You miss the power play, don’t you?”

Oswald nodded. 

“I’m feeling generous so I’ll make it five minutes instead of ten.”

He desperately wanted to see Edward. He  _needed_ to see him. Oswald tried to picture how he looked. Edward going down on him was nothing short of breathtaking, both literally and aesthetically. Oswald knew Ed removed his glasses before they started and that his bangs had likely fallen from their slicked back position. His shirt, definitely mussed by now. That grin, crooked and mischievous. Ed’s tongue teased his skin. He shuddered. He couldn’t take it. Ed was too good at this, and he too easy to wind up. He heard himself panting in a vain attempt to stave off the inevitable.

“Ed,” said Oswald, trying his hardest not to let it come out as a forbidden sound. “Edward…”

His husband let go and he nearly came from the lack of stimulation. There was a faint sound of a zipper and Oswald leaned his head back against the chair. He swallowed in a useless attempt to control himself. The rustle of Ed’s dress shirt told him everything he needed to know about what was going to happen. His throne was wide enough so this was happening whether he was ready or not. It began with The Riddler’s mouth against his own in a deep kiss where lips were between teeth, tongues occasionally met, and Penguin desperately tried to take over the kiss while his hands were still restrained. Then Ed gently straddled his husband and started with his motions between their hips. Oswald rolled his eyes shut at the sensation of his husband’s cock against his own and Ed’s hand around both of them. At this rate, he’d likely die if he was ever allowed to finish.

“Ed, _please_ …”

Oswald felt like a broken record. That seemed to be all he could say tonight. _Ed, please. Ed, please._ Because he wasn't able to spit out the full sentence of  _Ed, please just fuck me because I’m so damn close._ His husband dismounted him and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. If he got a turn after this, he’d make him pay for that. Oswald forgot everything when those nimble fingers pumped him quickly.

“ _Edward._ ” This time it was more of a warning than a moan. Oswald could practically see Ed’s self-satisfied smirk.

“I can bring tears to some, occur with a range of stimulation, yet an alarming amount of people can’t give me to someone else,” Ed growled. “What am I?”

He was too preoccupied to verbally answer the riddle, but he was seconds away from demonstrating it. Ed quickly removed the blindfold and watched Oswald’s expression as he quietly came into Ed’s fist, his hips jerking, his back arched, his hands pulling against the restraints. How could Ed continue to do this to him?

“Very good, Oz. You’re right.” He kissed his ear and whispered. “An orgasm.”

Oswald gave a broken moan and met his partner’s eyes. He accepted a kiss that filled with groans and whimpers because Edward wouldn’t stop teasing his cock. Oswald rested his forehead against his husband’s. “Untie me right now so I can make you pay for that.

Edward grinned down at his husband. “ _Make me._ ”


	5. First Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a wholesome bite to cool down after the spicy mustard in that last chapter.

“Hello, mother and father. I brought you both lilies and the two flowers in my life. You remember Edward, I brought him to visit you here a few times.”  
  
It took some fighting with his then-stepmother, but Oswald had Elijah buried beside Gertrude. He wanted his parents to be together again. He looked at their graves, the grief of losing both of them weighing heavily on him. Ed took Oswald’s hand and gave it a loving squeeze.  
  
“I’m very sorry I wasn’t able to know either of you,” said Ed. “It's cruel for both of you to be taken from him. I want to reiterate to you that...I love your son very much. I know there was a time when I was terrible to Oswald and I made him suffer, and for that, I apologize again. I’ve said it to you both before, but I truly am sorry. I’m just thankful we were able to find each other. Next to our daughter, Oswald is the best thing that’s happened to me.”  
  
Oswald wiped his husband’s eyes, then wiped his own. He wasn’t sure what to say after such a comment. So instead, he mouthed, “Thank you.”  
  
“I thank you for helping the fates align so that we can be happy and so that we can have her.”

Annabelle sat beside a stone cross marked _Elijah Van Dahl_ , babbling as she touched the grass around it. She picked a dandelion and blew on the seeds. When they didn't float away the way she wanted, she tossed it ahead of her with a pout. Annabelle looked up at her fathers then back to the ground for more small flowers. She crawled toward a daisy growing beside a headstone labeled _Gertrud Kapelput_.  
  
“I brought Annabelle again," began Oswald. “She's grown since our last visit. Mother, you'd be impressed. She’s been crawling everywhere. She’s really fast. I’ll look away for a second and then—"  
  
Ed nudged him. “Oswald. Oswald, look.”  
  
Their daughter pulled herself to a standing position using Gertrud’s headstone. She wobbled slightly and bent her knees a few times, crouching down as if testing the fact that she could do that. She giggled at herself.  
  
“Yay!” said Ed, clapping proudly. “That’s it AB.”  
  
Oswald stood dumbfounded while Annabelle looked at her parents. She tried to take her hand off the grave marker but found herself unsteady so she placed her hands on either side of it to stop herself from falling. He blinked and snapped himself out of his disbelief. He motioned for her to come to them. “Come on, Belle. Come here.”  
  
“Come on, AB.”  
  
Annabelle let go again, took three steps forward, then fell on her hands and knees.  
  
“Uh-oh,” smiled Ed. He tried to keep a happy face, knowing that if he didn’t, she’d cry because she fell. “Oh no, AB. You fell!”  
  
Oswald nodded in agreement. “But you’re okay, my little nestling. Can you get up?”  
  
Annabelle seemed to be okay with it all. She eagerly crawled to Penguin’s shoe and used his pants leg to stand. If it wasn’t for the fact that she made efforts to walk moments ago, Oswald would have ignored this action and considered it inconsequential. For months, she’d done this exact thing to get his attention, but mostly because she wanted to be picked up.  
  
“Very good, Belle!”  
  
“Dada woah!” said Annabelle. She seemed unsure and held onto his leg a little tighter.  
  
Ed crouched beside his husband. “It’s okay, Annabelle. Can you come to daddy?”  
  
She furrowed her brow, then looked up at Oswald. He smoothed her hair. “You can do it.”  
  
Annabelle let go of Oswald’s leg and took three and a half steps toward her dad. She wobbled but Ed caught her before she fell. Picking her up, The Riddler kissed her cheek a few times and smiled. Annabelle grinned in return as both of them looked at Oswald. He could see it now. He wasn’t sure at first, but Annabelle had Ed’s smile, too. They both did that thing where their mouths curled into an open smile when they were super excited or pleasantly surprised. They even closed their mouths at the same time and slapped on the same controlled grin. It would’ve freaked him out if it weren't for his elation over Annabelle’s first steps. Oswald closed the gap between them. All he wanted to do was kiss his husband. Ed accepted the peck and Penguin kissed his daughter’s cheek.  
  
“Honey, she walked!” said Oswald.  
  
Ed squeezed his husband’s hand. “She walked!”  
  
“I don’t know what I can’t believe more, the fact that she walked, or the fact that she did it around my parents.”  
  
“Both for me. Oh my, this is amazing.”  
  
“She walked. Our little nestling walked.”  
  
Ed’s smile began to fade. “Oh, no.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Annabelle _walked_. We’ll have to extra safety-proof the house.”


	6. Dad Reflexes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From an anecdote mentioned in chapter 8 of Sole Custody

Victor Zsasz folded his arms and clenched his jaw to hold back a yawn. His job the night before lasted longer than he'd originally anticipated. He prided himself on getting at least seven hours of sleep somewhere during every set of twenty-four hours. It kept him quick and focused. Given his profession, sleep often happened during the daytime hours. He used to do this so that he could handle Falcone's requests in the evening and early morning. Now that things had changed and he was aligned with Penguin, Victor had been able to sleep during normal sleeping hours between two and eight in the morning. There was the occasional exception, but he'd enjoyed this new schedule and found it benefited his abilities as a marksman.

"Woah!" Annabelle babbled. "Woah-oah-oah. Babbabababa!" 

Thanks to last night, Victor was running on three hours of sleep while watching over a child and her father with child-like tendencies. With the help of two espresso shots, he was doing a bit better. Granted, not at all comfortable with the slight grogginess lurking behind the temporary alertness, but it would have to do for now. He'd crash later. He made a mental note to remind himself that this was why he didn't make a habit of drinking coffee and that maybe he should start. Victor stretched his legs out and halfway sat on the stage behind him while keeping his peripheral vision on Annabelle. The eleven-month-old toddled around on the platform playing with Mr. Waddles.

"Whasat!"

Oswald stopped. "What's what?" He watched his daughter drop her penguin, clap her hands, and continue running. He shook his head. "As I was saying..." 

Previously, Victor had to worry about her crawling and getting into something. Now, Annabelle was walking and she was doing so more confidently than she had been four weeks ago when she took her first steps. He continued half-listening to Oswald, who paced and ranted about something Tabitha told him at brunch. The assassin trained most of his hearing on Annabelle, who babbled on in baby-talk. He could make out a few words like 'woah', 'dada', 'baba', and 'whasat', the rest was nonsense. Still, he listened because she would get louder and softer depending on how close she was to the edge of the stage. Something in his gut told him to be ready.

“Baba baba baba!”

Victor frowned. He couldn’t decide if she repeated the word because she liked the sound, or if it was because she wanted something to drink or a snack. He started to glance over his shoulder at the toddler when her father stole his attention.

"It was ridiculous." Oswald sighed. "Victor, let me know if you're in need of that again. I'll—Annabelle!"

The toddler began to fall. She'd run to the edge of the stage—except she misjudged just where that happened to be. Without looking behind him, Victor reached out as Annabelle fell against his arm. It took him milliseconds to turn, scoop his other arm underneath her, and bring her to his chest. He placed a protective hand behind her head. "You're okay."

Annabelle giggled. Victor placed her sippy cup in her hands and set her down on the stage to look her over. From what he could tell, she was fine. They weren't kidding when they said kids were resilient.

Her father's heart pounded. He stumbled forward with a small laugh. "You got her. Oh, my God. She's fine?"

Victor gave a single nod. He looked at his goddaughter as she beamed up at him completely unfazed. 

Annabelle held out her sippy cup to him. "Uth!" 

"Gertie Bell," he calmly began. "Do not do that again, do you understand me?" 

The assassin handed her over to a teary Oswald, who gratefully accepted his daughter. "Oh my God! Belle, you scared me." Penguin hugged her close. "I'm so glad you're alright. Thank you, Victor."

"You're welcome."

His adrenaline ebbed—albeit too slowly for his taste. Victor surprised himself with that one. He'd witnessed Edward catch Annabelle mid-fall at the park. He recalled watching Oswald grab her before she fell out of her crib. He supposed today's incident inducted him into a club of sorts. He was now the proud owner of Dad Reflexes™ for a kid that wasn't even his.


	7. Crib Directions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From anecdote in chapter 4

"Ed?" Oswald rolled onto his side and extended his arm behind him. "Ed?"

He opened one eye, shooting a glance over his shoulder before rolling onto his back. With it being the middle of the night and all, Oswald didn't anticipate finding the other side of his bed empty. Especially not after their activities only a handful of hours before.

"Edward?" Penguin called out, his voice a normal volume at the loudest. The lack of response made him push the blankets aside with a sigh.

After a trip to the bathroom, Oswald pulled on his purple robe—roaming the manor in nothing but his boxers wasn't a comfortable option if Ed was possibly hurt or distressed—and set off through the halls. Finding his husband proved easier than he'd anticipated. The warm light pouring into the hall from the soon-to-be nursery eased Penguin's mind only slightly. What the hell was Ed doing in there at this hour?

"Slot G?" muttered Ed. "I can't find—oh, here it is."

Oswald limped to the doorway. There, in the center of the room surrounded by crib pieces, sat his husband. Ed wore striped boxer briefs, a harried expression, and a shirt with the pun _Do you have 11 protons? Because you are sodium cute!_ on the front that Oswald had given him for his birthday. The taller man shoved his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Dammit!"

Ed adjusted his glasses. He tried to insert a different piece into Slot G and failed. Oswald watched him look at the directions then attempt to make the sections associated with Slot G fit with something labeled with an H sticker. When it still didn't work, Ed let out an irritated grunt. The smaller man could see hints of agitation begin to flood his husband's features.

"This part won't fit. It won't, it won't fit."

"Hey." Oswald moved closer and carefully sat down beside him. "Hey, it's okay."

"No, it's not!" snapped Ed. "We're having a _baby_ , Oswald."

Penguin nodded. So _that's_ what all this was about. He and Ed had recently accompanied their surrogate to her prenatal appointment for the first time. At ten weeks, she'd almost reached the end of her first trimester and the doctor asked them if they wanted to hear the baby's heartbeat. Oswald immediately burst into tears at the sound. Ed, on the other hand, smiled but remained calm. He stared at the start of its head and body, the science side of him taking over as he called it fascinating. Oswald blubbered over the sonogram on the ride home, while Ed showed minimal emotion. It reinforced the Penguin's concern that his husband seemed to be humoring his desire for a baby. But apparently that wasn't the case. The Riddler really _did_ want to be a father.

"Once our surrogate has the baby," Ed pressed, "we have to take that baby home and our son or daughter will be in this crib and if I don't put it together correctly it'll break and they'll die!"

Oswald lifted his eyebrows. "O-kay. You need to breathe, honey. The baby will be in a bassinet in our bedroom for the first few months."

"You're missing the point. It needs to be done right...and I can't even put a crib together, okay? How can I be a good father? I can't...I can't…" Ed dropped the two pieces in his hand and closed his eyes. "I...I…"

"Edward, breathe. You need to breathe."

"I...Oz...I.." Ed's heart began to beat so fast he was certain it would kill him. This was it, he would die on this floor surrounded by a half-assembled crib. He'd never meet his biological child. 

"Breathe. You're not dying. You're just panicking. I can't remember how to bring you back to me." Oswald cursed to himself. _Think, think, think_. "Okay, what do you see, hmm? Tell me...five things."

"Your freckles, your eyes, my hands...I'm...Oswald…" Ed put his head in his hands.

"Close enough."

"I'm scared."

"That's your anxiety. Honey, um…" Oswald took his husband's hand and brought it close to his lips. "What do you feel?"

"My heart, your hands, your lips, your breath."

"Okay, um, what do you hear?"

"Your voice and my heart in my ears." Ed let go of his husband's hand and sniffed, looking up with bloodshot eyes. "I can...Oz...I can hear the heartbeat still…"

"From the ultrasound?"

When Ed nodded, Oswald sighed. "Edward, it's going to be okay. Our baby won't be born tomorrow. She or he still has months to grow."

He placed a hand on his chest. "God, my heart won't stop racing."

"You're panicking. Just keep breathing. Do you taste anything?"

"Bile."

"Please don't puke on me. I know we both have kinks, but that's definitely not one of mine." When Ed laughed, Oswald touched his cheek. "Keep breathing. Is your heart any better?"

"Getting there. Do you really think I'm going to be a good dad?"

"We both will. It'll be okay."

"What about the crib?"

"I'll help you later this week."

Ed shot a glance at the directions. "But—"

"No. You need your rest." The smaller man stood and held out his hand. After Ed took it and got to his feet, Oswald tilted his head toward the door. "Let's go back to bed."

"...I _am_ pretty exhausted."

"I know. I am too."

"Okay." Ed watched his husband begin to limp away. He hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to press the issue, but he needed the confirmation. It was real now, yet it still felt so surreal. They were going to be _parents_. "Oz?"

"Yes?" sighed Oswald, turning on his heel. He waved his hand and dropped it at his side. "What is it now?"

"We're…we're having a _baby_."

He gave his husband small smile. "Yes, Edward. We're having a baby."


	8. Crying Babs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Just a quick update before the season premiere!

“What is it, Nygma?”  
  
“I can’t get her to stop crying.” Edward paced the floor of the bedroom, his wailing daughter flailing in his arms, his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. “She’s screaming and-and Oswald is at the lounge schmoozing with an investor or something, and I don’t...I can’t get her to stop crying. She’s not wet, she’s not hungry, I don’t know what’s wrong!”  
  
Barbara didn’t even attempt to hide her annoyance at the scientist. “Nygma, you’re a parent now. Figure it out like the rest of us did. Bye now!”  
  
“Please, please, _please_ don’t hang up! Wait!” The increase in Ed’s voice level caused Annabelle’s cries to grow that much louder. He shushed her and began to bend his legs in an awkward rhythm. Parenting videos made bouncing a baby look so easy. Why did he think he could be a parent? He was on the verge of tears himself. He couldn’t do this.

“Nygma…”

“Barbara, please help me. I’m trying, but I don’t know what’s wrong with Annabelle!”

A scoff. “Where’s the creep?”  
  
“If you’re talking about Zsasz, he’s handling a job.”  
  
“Oh, thought he was supposed to be your new nanny or something.”

“Zsasz is currently just helping occasionally.”

“Well, looks like you’re gonna have to figure this out yourself.”  
  
“Babs, please!” begged Ed. “Please! I need your help. I honestly don’t know what else to do or how to stop her crying. Please—”  
  
“Alright!” Barbara gave a deep sigh at the desperation in his voice. “Fine. Annabelle is way too young to be teething, is she sick?”  
  
“No? I-I-I don’t think so?”  
  
“Any fever?”  
  
“Not that I can tell. She feels normal.”  
  
“That’s good. Has she eaten?”  
  
“I fed her an hour or so ago.”  
  
“She still has an appetite, even better. Did you burp her?”  
  
“Yes! I can figure out that much! Honestly, I'm not completely useless. I did _everything_!”  
  
“Everything except fixing that tone.”  
  
Edward sat down in the glider and shifted his daughter to the crook of his arm. Retrieving the phone from his ear, he placed it on speaker and set it on the end table beside him. “I’m sorry Barbara. I’m just at my wits end. She never cries like this with Oswald.”  
  
“Please, I highly doubt that. Yelling and panicking is going to make it worse. She can feel that energy. Babies are like mini empaths.” Barbara grew quiet for a moment, then Ed heard the sound of her snapping her fingers. “Oh! She might have colic. Brae had it bad. Does she cry like this at the same time every day?”  
  
“No, she just started freaking out.”  
  
“She might be tired, Nygma. Or she’s just in the mood to cry? Kids get cranky and cry over dumb shit sometimes.”  
  
“Well, I’d like for her to stop.”  
  
“Relax. Sit in the rocker and, you know, rock her. Rub her back and sing, and stay calm. She’ll settle down when she’s ready.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” asked Ed, his voice cracking at the end. “What if...what if she cries all night or hurts herself from crying so hard?”

“She won’t. She’ll stop soon. Besides, Oswald will take her when he gets home.” Barbara’s tone truly softened for the first time that night as she said, “You can figure this out, Edward. You’re overthinking it. So, you know, stop trying to analyze a baby and just be her dad.” Suddenly, the sound of something crashing to the floor interrupted the call. Barbara swore. “ _Hey!_   _What did mama say?—_ Nygma, I gotta— _Don’t throw blocks at your brother. Stop it!_ — I gotta go!”  
  
Ed’s stare moved from his phone to Annabelle. She continued wailing as loudly as she could manage. Her cheeks remained pink and her little face contorted. He needed to get her to stop crying. He could do this. He gently moved the glider beneath him and brought his daughter up to his shoulder. “Oh, AB...AB, my baby. I know you can't exactly tell me, but you've gotta _help_ me. What’s _wrong_?”  
  
Annabelle kicked. He felt her fists grasp the fabric of his shirt and began patting her back. After a few pats, he switched to soothing circles against her spine. For the first time that night, her volume lowered and Edward found himself able to think more clearly. Annabelle's cries continued, now mixing with hiccups. For a brief moment, her father thought she was in the middle of winding herself up again.

"Oh crud, oh dear. Come on, AB, my little nestling, shh. It's okay." He adding humming to his ministrations. "It's alright."

Her cries morphed into whimpers which eventually became the even breaths of a newborn who had tired herself out. He moved her back into the crook of his arm and, for the first time in at least an hour, she’d opened her eyes. Annabelle blinked up at him. The tension in his shoulders eased. He’d done it. He calmed her down. Ed leaned his head against the back of the glider and let out a deep sigh that turned into a yawn. Ed returned his attention to Annabelle just in time to catch her yawning with her eyes closed. Her hands unclenched for the first time in an hour as she moved to make herself more comfortable. The tiny fingernails on her left hand grazed the skin on her cheek a few times while her right fingers found their way to her mouth. Ed made a mental note to grab her mittens when he was less concerned that moving from his current position would result in her wailing at the top of her lungs. He’d just need to ensure she didn’t scratch herself too hard. As Annabelle began to fall asleep, Ed located her pacifier and placed it in her mouth. He sighed when she continued to sleep soundly after latching on.

He thought about placing her in the bassinet but opted to hold her instead. Maybe it was the anxiety from worrying about her, or maybe it was seeing his daughter resting peacefully in his arms. Either way, Ed felt his stomach flop and a wave of happiness rush over him. This was his daughter. He’d realized this over the last several weeks, but it was a concept that was still so new and almost foreign to him. Edward had many labels. He’d been a scientist, Nygma, a dork, The Riddler, freak, a rogue, an annoyance, Mr. Nygma-Cobblepot, a husband, _Oswald’s_ husband. Now he was a father. Ed sniffled. Chalking the tears up to a combination of happiness, relief, and exhaustion, he slipped a finger behind his glasses to wipe his eyes. 

Ed smiled down at Annabelle. “I love you, AB. Sweet dreams, my little nestling.”


	9. Ferber Method

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of this chapter came to me last night and I had to write it out this morning.

Ed bounced his knee on the ball of his foot as he sat on the couch. Annabelle's cries were a siren, steady and painful. Beside him, Oswald listened to each breath between her wails. Ed watched him nibble on the side of his thumbnail and began jiggling his leg faster, sharing his husband's anxiety. Annabelle wordlessly pleaded with her fathers to give her attention.

"Please," Ed croaked. " _Listen_  to her! She  _needs_  us!"

"No can do, boss," said Victor. The assassin stood in front of the couple, his arms extended, a gun in each hand. He shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry."

The Ferber method was going to literally be the death of them. They tried for two weeks to let Annabelle cry it out. Each attempt ended in Oswald or Edward scooping up their daughter to soothe her. The couple decided the only way they could truly stop themselves is if there was an actual punishment for not following through. It was then that Oswald and Edward, in their desperation, decided to ask Annabelle's godfather for a major favor.

"You know the rules. If you leave to get her before the time limits, I shoot, unless it's a special circumstance."

Oswald placed his head in his hands at the morbid reminder and took a deep breath.

Victor softened. "Look, you both know I didn't want to do this, but you both begged me to so...here we go."

"We did this to ourselves."

"Did what?" snapped Ed. He shifted on the couch to glare at his husband, eyes narrowed, voice gruff. "Set ourselves up for this by giving her constant attention, or set ourselves up for being injured or killed because we decided to do something completely ridiculous?"

Because Annabelle learned that her fathers would come running with a small cry whenever they placed her down for a nap or bedtime, Oswald and Edward quickly found themselves in a predicament when it came to getting their daughter to sleep. Truth be told, it wasn't just bedtimes. Both parents got into the habit of picking up Annabelle practically every time she cried. It wasn't always, but somewhere along the way, it was enough to make Annabelle understand that if she cried, someone would give her attention.

Oswald sighed. "Ed, we were just doing our best. We didn't know."

"I did," said Victor. "I read somewhere that it's important to let babies cry occasionally. When I noticed I was giving in all the time, I started to check on Gertie Bell and make sure she was okay, but stand there and let her cry a little before I'd pick her up."

Penguin blinked up at him. "You mean to tell me you let our daughter suffer before you helped her?!"

"You're being a bit dramatic, don't you think? She was never suffering. Gertie Bell needs to learn how to self-soothe and she can't do that if you, Ed, and I run to her with every little peep."

"She could've been hurt! Right now, she could be in pain or stuck or worse."

"You realize we'll all be hostages to a thirteen-month-old."

"I don't care!" Oswald spat. Frustration and worry began to swirl in his chest making a perfect storm for one of his usual outbursts. "It's cruel letting her cry! Annabelle is Ed's and mine, and I can't bear it when she's upset and there's something I can do about it. My mother loved me enough to see about me when I cried! I love Annabelle as much as my mother loved me and more! How  _dare_  you say we shouldn't see about our baby!"

"That's not what I said." Victor tilted his head. "You have to relax. Gertie Bell will only get more upset if she senses that any of us are screaming."

"Well, I'm—!"

Suddenly, Annabelle's cries grew louder. Ed stared at the baby monitor on the table. "Oswald, he's right…"

Oswald listened to their daughter throw a fit of her own and pursed his lips. Ed gave him a pleading look, causing him to roll his eyes. "Fine!" He waved a hand. "But if we can't see about our baby, can you at least do it?"

"No," said Victor. He set his shoulders and sat in his hip. "We all have to do better. Gertie Bell is likely sitting her crib waiting for one of us to come in. If she doesn't stop, then we'll go in when it's time."

Oswald folded his arms while Ed rubbed his eyes. When they placed her in her crib at the start of this naptime Ferber attempt, Annabelle cried within thirty seconds of them leaving her. The scientist first checked on her after three minutes of letting her cry it out. Victor holstered his weapons and joined Ed in the nursery, leaving Oswald to sit anxiously on the couch. Under the assassin's watchful eye, Ed rubbed Annabelle's back without picking her up and they left the room. After five more minutes of Annabelle restlessness, Victor repeated this process with Oswald. They now needed to wait ten minutes before going in to check on her.

"How long has it been?" asked Oswald.

Ed checked his watch. "Three minutes and ten seconds. Poor AB. She desperately needs a nap."

"She won't take one. You know how crabby she gets when it's naptime. Instead of just taking the nap—"

"—she'd rather pitch a fit until she tires herself out. True. She's a bit stubborn…" Ed smiled and added, "like her father."

Oswald gave a scoff but smiled back. He held out his hand and felt a surge of comfort when his husband laced his fingers with his.  _Together_. They would do this together. Annabelle whined and whimpered between her cries. Penguin closed his eyes to block it out. Ed focused his attention on Victor who stared back at him.

"Dada!" cried Annabelle. She hiccuped and wailed. "Daaadaaa!"

Ed and Oswald exchanged looks. It was the first time since they started that Annabelle had called for them. The sound made Victor slip the safety on and holster his weapons. He gestured toward the nursery. "We have to check on her."

Oswald limped out of the sitting room while Ed looked to Victor in confusion. He started to follow his husband but hesitated. "Wait! Are you sure? I-It's not time yet."

"Did you not hear her?" asked Victor with a lift of his eyebrows. "We can't let Gertie Belle cry it out. I don't care if it's coddling, she needs us. Go."

Ed barrelled out of the room. "It's okay, Annabelle! Daddies are coming!"

Once in the nursery, the three men surrounded the crib fully prepared to find Annabelle red-faced and sobbing and possibly injured. Instead, they noticed the thirteen-month-old lying on her back with her eyes closed. She let out a yawn and brought a hand to her mouth to suck on her fingers. Ed quickly located one of her pacifiers on a table beside the rocking chair.

He returned to his husband's side, pacifier poised. "Ready, Oz?" he whispered.

Oswald reached over the crib railing for their daughter's hand. He held up one finger and mouthed  _One_.

"Two."

_Three!_

Penguin quickly removed Annabelle’s hand from her mouth as the Riddler slipped the pacifier between her lips. Annabelle latched on and slept. Both men sighed. Victor smiled.

"So," whispered Victor. The assassin looked from his goddaughter to her fathers. "Please tell me we're never doing this again."

Oswald and Ed shook their heads, "Never again."


	10. Simple Recognition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of tonight’s ep being Zsasz’s last according to Mr. Carrigan.

"Dada, up."

He knew this would happen eventually. Hang around a kid long enough and it'll only be a matter of time until they consider you a parental figure. Well, at least that's what he heard somewhere. Either way, Victor Zsasz knew in the back of his mind that this was going to happen sooner or later. Yet, he was still unsettled by the simple request from the toddler. He stood in the living room, surrounded by toys, somewhat dumbfounded at the twelve-month-old in front of him.

"Dada...up!" said Annabelle, a bit louder.

Victor stared down at his goddaughter. Surely she hadn't just called him what he thought she did. Annabelle lifted her arms and reached for him with open hands. She balled her fingers and flexed them, opening and closing, grabbing and reaching. When he didn't respond to her gripping gestures, she crawled closer to him and plopped down at his feet.

"Up?" Annabelle pulled herself onto her knees and raised her arms. "Up-up."

That was enough to shake away his shock. Victor bent over and lifted her up into his arms. "Sorry, Gertie Bell."

Annabelle placed her hands on his cheeks. He made silly faces at her, laughing with her when she giggled. Victor knew he was attached to Baby Nygma-Cobblepot, but he never thought that she'd grow attached to him too. He pushed the thought from his mind. Between Oswald, Edward, and himself, Annabelle had three men looking after her at any given moment. Surely it was only natural she would call him dada by mistake.

"Dada, ba?" She pointed to her sippy cup on the table. "Ba-ba?"

"Say  _please_." Victor mentally cringed at the words as he said them because when the hell did he get so parental?

Oswald was on a kindness kick with his daughter. His determination to make Annabelle say  _please_  and  _thank you_  was admirable but it resulted in some impatience from her. She reached for the cup.

"Say  _please_ , Gertie Bell."

"Peas."

"Alright, hang on." Victor sat on the couch and grabbed the sippy cup from the table. He handed it to her. "There you go."

Taking it, the infant leaned against Victor's chest and brought the half-filled cup to her mouth. He helped her hold it while she drank her water.  _Of course, she thinks you're her dada when you do things like this,_  thought Victor. Annabelle pushed it away after a few sips and started to fidget.

"All done?" asked Victor, feeling her nod against him. He moved her sippy cup to the table. "Want down?"

Annabelle nodded again. He set her down and watched as she crawled over to her LEGO DUPLO bricks. She picked up a red one with a giggle. It wasn't until she brought her hand up then back to throw it that Victor made a face.

"Uh-uh. No, ma'am," he warned. "Don't throw your blocks."

Annabelle looked at him, her hand still poised for launch. 

"Annabelle." Victor fixed her with a stare. "I said  _no_. Do not throw your toys, please. That's a no-no. Do you understand me?"

She nodded once. Lowering her arm, she said, "Uh-oh, dada."

Victor froze. There it was  _again_. He watched her stack the LEGO on the others. Why did she keep calling him that? She had to have thought he was Penguin or the Riddler. He shook his head. No. She recognized faces. She knew Ed and Oswald from the sound of their voices and by sight. She wasn't confused. The thought of what that meant made Victor's breath catch in his throat. He walked over to his goddaughter and sat down across from her. There was only one way to find out.

"Gertie Bell," said Victor, "Where's your dada?"

Annabelle pointed at him, "Da!"

His heart began to beat a little faster. Heat surrounded his neck. His hands began to tremble slightly and the assassin swallowed to steel himself. Where was this anxiety coming from? Victor pulled out his phone and opened a photo of Oswald at the Christmas party. The smaller man wore an ugly sweater with a reindeer on it, a Santa hat, and a smile. Holding his phone beside him, the picture in the infant's view, Victor asked, "Who is that?"

"Da," she pointed at Oswald. "Hi, dada!"

"Is that your dad? Is that Annabelle's dada?"

Annabelle nodded.

"Good!" Victor swiped to a photo of Edward. This one was from Halloween. Ed, dressed as Gaston, smiled at the camera, his body theatrically draped over one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, his arm extended toward the mantle. The assassin suppressed a laugh at the memory of Ed singing that he used antlers in all of his decorating. "Who is that?"

She pointed at Edward. "Dada da!"

"Very good. Is that your other dad?"

"Dada."

He swiped to the next picture from that night. Ed stood beside Oswald, who was dressed as LeFou. Oswald pressed a kiss against his husband's cheek while Ed had his arm curled to show off his muscles. "Who are they? Who is that?"

"Da!" Annabelle pointed at Ed, then at Oswald. "Dada!" She looked up at him. "Dada."

He put his phone away and picked up her sippy cup, the tremor of anxiety working its way through his hands. "What's this?"

"Ba-ba!"

"Very good, Gertie Bell! Now, where are your dads?"

Annabelle looked to her right and left, frowning as her eyes scanned the room for signs of her parents. She looked at Victor and smiled. Pointing her finger at him, she cried, "Dada!"

"I'm not either of your dads, Gertie Bell." He shook his head. "Who am I?"

"Dada."

"No, Gertie Bell….Where is your dad?"

Annabelle's face fell. "Uh-oh..." Her bottom lip wobbled as she searched his face. She crawled forward and touched his knee. "Dada?"

Realization hit Victor in the pit of his stomach and clenched his heart.  _Fuck_. Panic raced through his mind. He hesitated for a moment then pointed at himself and shook his head. "No, Annabelle. I'm not your dad. I'm your godfather. That's different. I'm  _not_  dada. I-I-I don't  _deserve_  to be called dada."

Annabelle immediately began to cry.

* * *

  
"Thanks again for watching AB tonight." Ed yawned, setting his keys on the table. "Oz and I really needed this date."

"I think Annabelle's mad at me," whispered Victor.

Oswald rolled his eyes. "About what? Did you tell her she can't throw her blocks anymore?"

"Yes, but that's not why. She called me  _dada_  and I told her I wasn't."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Realizing what Penguin meant by that, Victor paused. He stood up straight and squared his shoulders. After blinking a few times, he said, "Boss, I'm not her—"

"Oh, come now, Victor." Oswald tilted his head with a purse of his lips. When the assassin didn't catch the hint, he tossed his hands up and dropped them. " _Hello?_ I mean," he scoffed, " _of course_ you're her dad, Victor. Honestly, we made you her godfather. Besides, you take care of her as much as we do."

Ed agreed. "Exactly, you watch out for AB, feed her, and dress her sometimes. You buy her things. You even stop her from accidentally injuring herself when she's playing. You're a dad."

Victor made a face and said, "No, I'm a nanny-babysitter with a godfather title. All that stuff is normal sitter stuff."

"Oh, please. You do other things that make you qualified dad material. In a way, given how much you're around, she’s just as much yours as she is ours."

"Ed does have a point. Let's not be modest," said Oswald. "You're as much of a Dada as we are. Look, if it makes you that uncomfortable, we can keep reinforcing that you're not her dad. But, since she can't say  _Zsasz_  yet, what's the harm in her calling you  _dada_  for now? She's close enough."

"Unless you're not comfortable with AB thinking of you as one of her dads." Ed adjusted his glasses. "We can try to make sure she understands you're just her godfather. But that in itself—"

"It's not that," the assassin muttered.

"Then what is it?"

Victor stood quietly with his arms folded in thought. After he placed Annabelle in her crib for the night, he allowed himself to break down. Just the idea of being considered a dad by the infant left him engulfed in emotions. Worry, doubt, happiness, and slight panic swirled together in his chest and it all came out in a few tears outside of the nursery door. "It's not that."

"Then tell us what it is."

All the little moments when she called him  _dada_ flooded his memory. Although he didn't think he earned the title, Victor had to admit hearing his goddaughter lump him in with her actual fathers was the highlight of his week. The thought of her calling him  _dada_  again made his heart swell a bit, pushing away the self-doubt. Maybe he could be as good of a parent as Oswald and Edward. He pushed the idea from his mind. No. They were much more parental than himself. But maybe he could learn to be even better. Maybe he could be as good as Carmine was to him.

Carmine Falcone was the closest thing he had to a father. Victor was young, orphaned, raised by his dear Bubbe. He spent his late teens lost until the Don took him in during his early twenties. Falcone was incredibly kind to Victor. He opened up his home, gave him a job, and made him part of his family. On one or two occasions, he even referred to him as a son. The Don was so much more than a boss to the assassin. When Falcone was killed, Victor found himself lost all over again.

Victor groaned at the realization. He didn't think he was worthy of being called  _dada_  because he didn't think he could match up to what Falcone was to him. He shook his head. "I don't think I'm....I mean, I'm not…worthy."

Oswald placed a hand on his shoulder. "But you are worthy, Victor. Annabelle isn't wrong and we weren't misguided in making you her godfather."

"You earned it," Ed said. "I mean truly, you're a lifesaver for us. I'm not surprised AB called you  _dada_."

"Please...don't think so low of yourself."

Victor took in their words and sighed. Maybe he  _was_  being too hard on himself. "Thanks. It's fine for now, I suppose. But as Gertie Bell gets older, I'll be  _Zsasz_  to her."


End file.
